


Division 52

by popkin16



Category: Men in Black, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Conspiracy Challenge, Crossover, First Time, M/M, Romance, The MiB is a sub-section of the SGC, cop John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/pseuds/popkin16
Summary: John never expected aliens.





	1. In which there are suspicions

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [Crystallic Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallicSky/pseuds/CrystallicSky) and [Vaguely-Concerned](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguely_concerned/pseuds/vaguely_concerned) for beating this into some semblance of shape.
> 
> The title comes from this exchange from _Men in Black_ , tweaked slightly for a more overt nod to aliens:
> 
> KAY: INS Division 6.  
> AGENT JANUS: Division 6? I never heard of Division 6.  
> KAY: Really?

John nodded to Ellie, the librarian on duty this particular Sunday, as he sauntered past with a smile. Normally he made a point to stop and ask after her girlfriend, but he was running late as it was. She waved him on with a knowing smile, eyes bright and amused. Nothing got past her, John knew, and he fought not to blush.

He took the stairs two at a time to the second floor and trailed his hand along the book spines as he weaved his way through the maze of bookshelves. In the back was an alcove with a window seat overlooking the beautiful mountain view. A table was situated a few feet in front of the wide window, packed high with books of various subjects, the small table lamp already lit to combat the lengthening shadows as the sun retreated behind the horizon.

Rodney was firmly ensconced on the narrow window seat, sitting sideways so his socked feet rested comfortably. The light that shined through the window brightened the tips of his hair, giving him a glow. He rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb as he read, a hypnotic movement that drew the eye. He didn’t look up as John approached, only turned the page of his book.

“You’re late.”

“I know,” John said, setting Rodney’s coffee on the floor, well within reach. “Work ran long.”

“Hmm,” Rodney said, snatching up the cup and taking a hearty swallow. Appeased by John’s offering, he deigned to meet John’s eyes. “A likely excuse.”

John rolled his eyes. “Next time I’ll be sure to tell the criminal to wait until after I’m off duty. I’m sure he’ll listen.”

Rodney was fighting to keep hold of his annoyance, John could tell. The corners of his lips were turning up and his body had relaxed into his seat. His blue eyes were bright and amused. He shifted, moving his feet off the couch in silent invitation. John swung his backpack off and settled in next to him, sitting close enough to feel Rodney’s body heat. Not that it required a lack of distance - Rodney put off heat like a furnace. John, who was always cold, had taken to sitting as close as he could get away with.

While John rooted around in his bag for his book, Rodney bookmarked his place and gently set his book aside. Rodney’s reverence for paper books was as odd as it was endearing. The slide of his fingers over the cover, the careful turning of the pages, like it was a precious artifact to be treated only with respect. John had asked, once, why he treated books like they were  rare gems.

“I was raised in a place without many paper books,” was all he’d said. John wasn’t much for talking about his childhood either and had let the matter rest, though curiosity gnawed at him.

John made a noise of triumph as he pulled his book out. It was a personal copy, the cover faded with age, the corners bent, worn down with age and repeated readings. It had been John’s turn to suggest a book for them to read and he’d chosen _Hitchhiker’s Guide_ , certain that Rodney would love the humor. He’d been right, and they had mutually agreed to read the whole series before choosing something different. Setting his backpack down at his feet, John narrowly missed knocking over his coffee, catching it just in time. John kicked his backpack a safe distance away and sighed.

“Rough day?” Rodney asked, sympathetically. John nodded, rubbing at one eye with the palm of his hand.

“Weird day,” John amended. “Saw a guy jump from a bridge to land on his feet, completely unharmed. He just...walked it off. Never seen anything like it.”

“Maybe he just got lucky?” Rodney offered, staring hard at his socked feet.

“Maybe,” John replied doubtfully. “It just seems like…”

Rodney finally looked up at him, arching an eyebrow.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something weird about this place? About the people, I mean.”

“....No? People are weird everywhere, Sheppard. Inexplicable.” Rodney’s mouth curved into a frown. John had heard his rant about people and their stupidity and lack of logical actions enough to be able to recognize an impending rant when he heard it, so John hurried to continue.

“I don’t know, it just feels like I’ve seen more crazy stuff during a year in this town than I’ve seen in my whole life."

“Like your bridge jumper,” Rodney said skeptically, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” John nodded. “And that lady who lifted the bumper of her car like she was lifting a toy car, and the guy with the super senses, and that kid who seemed to read my mind.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Rodney grumbled. He was picking at a hole in his pants, a tell John had picked up on right away. John bringing up the weirdness that was Manitou Springs always made Rodney uncomfortable. “It’s all in your fluffy-haired head. That kid was just exceptionally observant and the woman was just on drugs.”

“I really don’t think so,” John said quietly, watching Rodney’s fingers work. “I know it sounds crazy, and maybe individually I’d be able to forget about it, but it happens too frequently.” John had spent his first six months here convinced he was slowly going crazy, but he’d reached a point where he could no longer dismiss what he’d seen, where repeated run-ins had worn down the skeptic in John.

“So, what? You think there’s something supernatural at work?”

John cracked a grin. “Maybe I should be calling in some hunters.”

Rodney snorted. “Maybe that’s your problem right there. Too much television.”

“Okay, Scully. See if I confide in you again.”

Rodney tilted his head to the side and bit his lip. Though he was the same age as John, Rodney had some glaring holes in his pop culture knowledge, and John never knew when a reference would go over his head. Rodney was such a fascinating mystery to John, a study in contradictions: a genius who had spent his life dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge, but raised in such a place that paper books were uncommon. Brutally honest but personally sensitive. Arrogant but insecure.

John figured he could spend his whole life trying to know Rodney. On a good day, John liked the idea. On a bad one, it terrified him.

“The X-Files,” he explained. “Aired in the early 90’s, about an FBI Agent named Mulder and his partner, Scully. Mulder believed in aliens and the paranormal, while Scully was a skeptic. I’m not sure how you missed seeing it, actually.”

“Some of us were busy _learning_ , Sheppard.” Rodney sniffed. He paused and gave it some thought. “Aliens, huh. Sounds interesting.”

“It was a good show. We should watch it sometime,” John nudged Rodney’s shoulder with his own. Rodney leaned into him, arms pressed together.

“I’d like that,” Rodney smiled.

 

.=.=.=.=.

“Who’s in there with the chief?” John asked, tilting his head toward the Chief’s closed office door. Ford and Bates exchanged a long look, communicating silently, before shrugging unconvincingly at John. Bates deliberately met John’s eyes but Ford wouldn’t look in his direction, fumbling with his pen, a half-filled report laying on his desk. John watched Ford for a moment or two before glancing over at Bates, who was watching the door intently.

Both men straightened when the door opened, practically jumping to attention, and when John saw the chest candy on the general stepping out of the Chief’s office, he had to fight the same instinctive reaction. Instead, John met the grey-haired general’s eyes and pointedly stayed slouched, chin tilting in an unconscious mimic of Rodney’s own show of defiance. Rather than becoming irritated, as was John’s intention, the general instead seemed amused, giving John a small wave as he left.

“Why is a general meeting with the Chief?” John asked idly, hardly expecting an answer. Ford and Bates shared another look, and John really hoped neither man were special ops during their time in the military.

They weren’t subtle at all.

 

.=.=.=.=.

John almost forgot the general’s visit as the morning passed, filled with reports and patrol. He took a detour to the bathroom just before lunch, coffee spilled down his front and Ford’s apologies trailing behind. Ford had joined the force just before John, freshly discharged from the military, and though he had mostly adjusted to his eye patch there were still times he misjudged distances and knocked things over. Luckily, John’s coffee had been leftover from the morning and had long since gone cold.

It took a moment for the bathroom discussion to become more than just background noise. John froze, the door pushed open part way.

“- to keep a lookout for him,” Markham was saying. John slid the rest of the way into the bathroom, easing the door closed behind him. He took care to tuck himself into the closet corner, jammed between the hand dryer and the wall of the first stall.

“The general came all the way from the Mountain to tell us that?” Bates asked. “Must be one bad motherfucker.”

“I think he wanted to get a look at Sheppard, too. I heard they were considering him for the program when he opted for retirement.” Markham said. “Might be they’re still thinking about it.”

“Hmm,” was Bates response. He seemed almost derisive of the idea, a sentiment John shared. They got along pretty well due to mutual respect for each other’s capabilities, but John knew Bates didn’t approve of the motivation behind his exit from the military. Most didn’t, and he couldn’t see any officer willing to bring him back under their command. Not with his black mark.

“I don’t get why they think he’d come _here_ ,” Stackhouse muttered after a pause. “This is the dumbest place for him to go.”

“Is it, though?” Markham asked. “There are others like him here. People who’d be willing to help a guy out, or at least get him in touch with some underground connections.”

“And risk being sent back for helping a fugitive?” Stackhouse sounded dubious. “He knows we’re here, that we know about his... background. Of all cities, this is the one most equipped to catch him.”

“Speaking of catching him,” Bates broke in. “Be a little more on the ball this time. Sheppard collared the last one and he’s starting to ask questions we can’t answer.”

There was another pause. John’s heart pounded. He hadn’t heard anything about a fugitive likely heading their way, which meant this information was being spread by word of mouth, purposely cutting him out. What the fuck was going on?

“I don’t understand why they hired him if they had no intention of bringing him in fully,” Markham said. "Unless they _are_ still thinking about it."

“That line of thought is for the higher ups to know,” Bates snapped. “We just do our jobs.”

“Yeah, yeah.” John could almost picture Markham rolling his eyes. A sink turned on and the conversation drifted; they were getting ready to leave. John slipped quietly from the room, head full of questions and chest heavy with worry.

 

.=.=.=.=.

John told himself he was a rational guy, not the type to be influenced by rumors. He wasn’t not taken to flights of fancy. Despite his love of flying, he kept his feet on the ground and head out of the clouds, metaphorically speaking.

But Manitou Springs was only six miles from Colorado Springs, home of The Mountain. There was a lot of talk about that place, rumors about secret projects at NORAD, about strange people and even stranger happenings. Rodney claimed he worked on deep space telemetry, which sounded like a load of bullshit to John, typical military code for something more secretive. But what did John know?

Just hearsay and the odd incidents in a town existing just outside Colorado Springs, home to many of the people who worked at Cheyenne Mountain Complex.

Other than that, a whole lotta nothing.

 

.=.=.=.=.

John beat Rodney to their meeting place that Sunday, eagerly anticipating some uncomplicated interaction. John had not noticed anything different in his co-workers actions but he couldn’t help but feel like the camaraderie he’d previously felt was fake, a show put on to keep him in the dark. Being around Rodney made John feel better, and with all the thoughts swirling around in his head, he needed that.

He took his usual seat, setting down the cup carrier on the nearby table. It was still light out, so the table lamp had not been turned on yet, leaving the room to be lit from the cold, outside light. John had never been to their meeting place without Rodney here; the space felt too empty without Rodney’s presence, too quiet without his words. John pulled out the book he was reading on Rodney’s recommendation, hoping to quell the storm of his thoughts. Settling in with his back against the wall and his legs spread out over the rest of the seat, John glanced out the window as he opened the book.

He froze.

Rodney was standing where the path leading to the library doors met the public sidewalks, talking with two men in suits. Despite the overcast day, the two men were wearing sunglasses, looking ridiculously out of place in this relatively small town. John leaned closer to the glass as though that would let him get a better look or allow him to hear what they were talking about. Rodney was gesturing wildly, chin tilted defiantly. John didn’t see the two suits move, but after a moment Rodney’s shoulders slumped and he held out his arm. John’s nose was nearly pressed to the glass at this point, straining to see as one of the suits pulled something from his inside pocket and held it out over Rodney’s arm. It hovered there for a moment before being tucked away. One of the suits turned and began to walk away, while the other lingered behind, clearly speaking some final words to Rodney before he, too, moved off.

Rodney trudged his way up the path toward the library, and John leaned away from the window, rubbing at his bottom lip thoughtfully. John knew that Rodney, like many of the residents at Manitou Springs, worked up at the Mountain. It was likely that little meeting had something to do with Rodney’s job, though John couldn’t imagine what. But given the secrets his department was keeping from him, John had to wonder. Was he seeing conspiracies where there were none, or was there something more to this town?

When Rodney finally arrived, John did his best to lounge casually. Rodney looked preoccupied and a little irritated, which meant all of John’s efforts to look normal were for nothing. In this state, Rodney wouldn’t notice if John was sporting a facial piercing, let alone any odd behavior.

“Hey,” Rodney muttered, waving at John. He settled on the seat, absently picking through his bag to pull out his book. John waited until Rodney was settled, book in lap, coffee in hand, before springing his question.

“Who were those guys?”

“What guys?” Rodney asked, fiddling with his bookmark. He didn’t look up, and John was becoming concerned. If something bothered Rodney, he let the whole world know. John had seen him deep in thought over the complex equations on his laptop that John wasn’t supposed to know about, had seen him get lost in a book until the outside world had ceased to exist, but he’d never seen this. A worried, withdrawn Rodney.

“The guys you were talking to in front of the library just a few minutes ago,” John persisted.

Rodney’s head jerked up. His voice was too high when he replied, “The - oh, them. Just...work stuff, you know how it is.”

“It didn’t look like work stuff,” John said, doubtful.

“Hmm, yes, well. I just forgot to do something, is all.” Rodney was squirming with discomfort now, body language screaming his desire for a new topic.

“They tracked you down for that? It couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

Rodney’s gaze drifted until he was staring out the window. He looked almost sad, somehow. “It was very important.”

They fell into an uneasy silence, with Rodney distracted and John’s head full of buzzing, paranoid thoughts. A headache formed behind John’s eye, relieved only when he pressed his fingertips against his closed eyelid. After several moments went by with neither man speaking up or looking at their books, John sighed.

“Maybe we should just cancel today. Go home, relax a little.”

The corner of Rodney’s mouth turned down into a crooked, unhappy frown. John wanted to trace the curve of his mouth until Rodney smiled, returning to his animated, excitable self. But John’s head was pounding and his body was tired, exhausted from a day of work and suspicion. He enjoyed his weekly meetups with Rodney and didn’t want to skip one, but today was clearly not a good day for either of them.

“How ‘bout we reschedule?” John asked suddenly. “We could meet sometime this week at my house.”

Rodney perked up at that. “We could watch the X-Files. I have Netflix.”

“I could cook us dinner.” John had gone to cooking classes with Nancy once upon a time, an activity she had suggested while John was home between deployments. The classes had come in handy after the divorce, after John’s separation from the military. The thought of cooking something that had Rodney making those loud, delighted noises was mighty intriguing, too.

Rodney’s gaze went a bit dreamy. “You cook? Oh, that’s just wonderful.”

John grinned. He nudged Rodney’s foot with his own, feeling his mood swing back around to happy. If their mid-week hang out went well, maybe it could become a regular thing. John had lots of tv shows and movies to share with Rodney.

“What day works for you?” Rodney asked eagerly. As John was the one who had more random hours, it would make more sense to plan around his schedule. Rodney was usually out of work by seven at the latest, though he’d indicated a willingness to work all night if given half a chance.

“Wednesday,” John said finally. “I’m out by four. We can meet at seven for dinner, give me some time to prepare.”

Rodney beamed, bouncing in his seat a little. John wanted to kiss him.

“Wednesday it is,” he agreed, and John left with Rodney’s smile and dinner plans on his mind, any speculation about that weird confrontation in front of the library banished.

 

.=.=.=.=.

John rented a small apartment near the outskirts of town, where things were quiet and the neighbors far away. John liked the open space, tasted freedom and peace whenever he inhaled. He’d built his own back deck for late night star viewing, though he spent quite a bit of time with his head tipped back, gazing up at the blue sky, trying to pretend the deck chair he was sitting in was actually a pilot’s seat and the blue sky was close enough to touch.

Rodney showed up in close-fitting pants, a blue shirt, and a grey zip up jacket. It was kind of embarrassing how good he looked to John, especially how nicely those pants outlined his ass, despite the ugly pattern. John was torn between hoping Rodney caught him looking and that he didn’t. John was no coward though, and no longer military, and indulged himself with long, admiring looks.

Rodney seemed pleased when John indicated they’d be eating outside for dinner, readily helping John move things from the kitchen to the table out there. The crickets were like background static, just loud enough to block out distant city noises, soft enough not to irritate. The low lighting and privacy was perfect for a date, not that either of them had actually used the word.

Oh god. Rodney didn’t know this was a date. Did he?

John sneaked a peek at Rodney, who was shoveling food into his mouth with his usual avarice, humming and moaning, eyelashes fluttering, and John wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this. John didn’t think Rodney knew this was a date and he’ wasn’t quite sure how to get to that point across. Rodney was not good with subtle and John was not good with words.

Rodney’s bottom lip was shiny.

“Are you going to finish that?” Rodney asked, pointing at John’s half-eaten plate. John passed it over with a smile, glad that dinner has been a hit, at the very least.

They did the dishes side by side, Rodney insisting he’d help. He discarded his old man grey jacket, leaving him in that dark blue shirt that suited him so well, and John thought the only thing that would make his shirt look better was if it were covered in soap, put there by John’s hands. John made sure to slide his hand along Rodney’s when passing a dish over for him to rinse and dry. Deliberate, firm touches, impossible to ignore. Rodney shot him side glances even as he talked about a minion of his who set himself on fire that day - and the subsequent mandatory meetings on fire safety that he and his people were now required to sit through.

“Deal with a lot of fire hazards?” John asked, still chuckling at the over-the-top storytelling.

“Not as a rule, no,” Rodney took the glass cup, touch lingering for a second too long. “Which is why it’s so baffling. We’re still not sure how he managed it. I’ve never seen a person without eyebrows before - it’s not a good look.”

John was surprised when Rodney wrapped one hand around John’s wrist. He turned to meet Rodney’s slightly widened eyes, gaze darting to where Rodney was biting his bottom lip. Time seemed to slow down as Rodney squeezed his wrist, brushed his thumb gently over John’s pulse. Rodney let go and grabbed the cup from John’s hand. His cheeks were pink and he studiously avoided John’s gaze. He wanted to kiss the area behind Rodney’s ear, nuzzle at his neck -

He abruptly realized the sink was empty now and that he was mindlessly swishing his hands through the water, fruitlessly looking for the next dirty dish. He stepped back and dried his hands with a towel, handing it over to Rodney - who was still refusing to meet his gaze - once he was done. The silence between them was awkward, but not uncomfortable, and John took a chance. He grabbed the bottom edge of Rodney’s shirt and tugged him toward the dark living room, where Netflix was already queued up. Rodney’s head jerked up at the first tug, but he was smiling now, wide and crooked and just how John liked.

The couch was long and well loved, perfect for sprawling out, for taking naps. Despite the space, they sat pressed together, shoulder to knee. Their hands rested on their legs, inches apart, and John knew by the end of the night he’d be reaching out. Though John got caught up in the episode, he occasionally was interrupted by the sudden awareness of Rodney’s body next to his, the potential that seemed to sit so heavily between them. Rodney seemed to be enjoying The X-Files, even nodded eagerly when John offered to start the second episode. As soon as the remote was back on the living room table, John grabbed Rodney’s hand.

Rodney startled at first, clearly not expecting such a move, but before John could pull away he gripped back, almost too tight. John leaned against him, hyper aware of the clasp of their hands, and noted that Rodney had put on aftershave.

John went for a kiss after the third episode, when Rodney turned to him to continue sharing his thoughts. It was awkward with Rodney trying to speak through it, the kiss landing more on Rodney’s teeth than anything else. John snorted loudly with amusement, which seemed to set Rodney off. He curled closer, giggling.

“So romantic,” Rodney teased, voice trembling with laughter.

“Hey, if you’d just stop talking,” John complained, face mashed into Rodney’s shoulder so tightly his nose bent. Once he felt he could look at Rodney without remembering the undignified noise he just made, he sat back.

“Right, I can do that,” Rodney agreed, and pressed his lips together until they nearly disappeared. He could only hold it for a moment before he collapsed into giggles again, this time setting John off. The laughter released any tension and nerves they’d been feeling before the kiss, and feeling light with happiness and contentment, John went in for the kiss a second time.

Rodney’s lips were warm and a little dry. Though John meant for it to be a soft, quick kiss this first time, he couldn’t seem to stay away for too long, each press of lips lingering for a little longer. John cupped the back of Rodney’s head with one hand, trying to take this slow, to savor the moment. Rodney wrapped an arm around John’s waist and hauled him closer, leaning backward until John was stretched over him. The kiss deepened, got a little hotter, and John wanted so badly to lift Rodney’s shirt, to tease his nipples and press his hand to the skin over Rodney’s heart. But John’s hand was trapped underneath Rodney’s head, the other pinned between their bodies and the couch.

Rodney wasn’t quite so restricted and slid his hand under John’s henley shirt, touching John’s back, tracing the contour of his muscles. The kiss broke only when Rodney slid his hand down to squeeze John’s ass, John moaning at the touch, rolling his hips into Rodney’s body. He hadn’t planned for things to go so far on the first date, but he was definitely one to go with it, to let the situation lead him.

John’s cell phone rang, the ringtone the one he assigned for the Chief, and this time the noise he made was one of disappointment.

“I gotta - I’m sorry,” John gasped.

“Hey, no, it’s fine,” Rodney replied, blinking up at John. His hair was mussed and his lips were red, the skin of his cheeks and neck flushed. John wanted, he wanted _so much_ , since he first saw Rodney bitching in line at the coffee shop. It took great effort to even think of moving away.

“Fuck,” John swore, and pressed a wet kiss to Rodney’s neck, gave it a quick nibble before pulling away, rolling off the couch and onto the floor. He landed with a wince, already reaching for his cell phone, trying not to watch as Rodney sat up, readjusting his clothes.

“Sheppard,” he snapped.

“A known fugitive has been spotted in town,” his Chief informed him. “All officers must respond, so get your ass to the station right now.”

“Yes, sir,” John said, and adrenaline surged inside him at the thought of a chase, of a hunt. His mind raced with all that needed to be done. He turned to look at Rodney, who had already gotten off the couch and was gathering his things.

“I’ll call you when we’re done,” John said finally, uncertain how to break the weird atmosphere between them. “We can reschedule.”

“Right, of course,” Rodney smiled at him, but it looked all wrong. John used the couch to help himself off the floor. He touched Rodney’s hands, stilling them, and leaned in for a slow, heated kiss. Rodney opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. John let it go on for longer than he should have, given the situation at the station, but even so, Rodney made a sound of disappointment when he pulled back.

“Raincheck,” John said hoarsely. “I’m not - I’m not letting this one slide, Rodney.”

Rodney’s lips curled into a pleased smile. He was still charmingly flushed and mussed. He still smelled really good. John was going to be thinking about the taste of his mouth all night.

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

 

.=.=.=.=.

It took four days for the manhunt to conclude. John was tired and more than ready to catch a good nine hours of sleep, but equally as pressing was the need to see Rodney. He’d left in such a hurry, with things unfinished, that he wanted Rodney to know that he was very much still interested in continuing where they left off. Later, after those nine hours. If John were very lucky, he’d get to spend those nine hours at Rodney’s side.

John had been to Rodney’s little house only once, when Rodney had needed a ride home from the library, but it was very close to John’s patrol route. It took only an extra half hour to actually find the place, which John blamed on a combination of fatigue and lack of lighting. Rodney’s porch light was on but the rooms at the front of the house were dark, and John briefly worried that Rodney was already in bed. But the lure of a possibly warm, sleepy Rodney was too much to resist. John soon found himself knocking on Rodney’s front door.

There was no answer for one long minute before the door swung open, a rush of warmth and the smell of Rodney’s home greeting him. Rodney appeared in the doorway looking cranky, pillow creases decorating the right side of his face. It took a moment for him to realize it was John he was looking at, his mouth relaxing from a scowl into a crooked, welcoming smile.

John opened his mouth to greet Rodney but a yawn escaped instead. He flushed, his face warming in the cool air. John ducked his head with embarrassment, but Rodney only chuckled.

“Get in here,” he ordered, and John obeyed, stepping into the warm house eagerly. He tripped over the little step into the house and caught himself using Rodney’s arm, enjoying the strength he felt there. John kicked his shoes off as Rodney closed the door behind him, using his foot to slide them against the wall. He bent over to slip his socks off, tucking them inside his shoes. Rodney led the way to his bedroom. John wanted to admire the view - those broad shoulders, that ass - but fatigue was pulling at his limbs and the lids of his eyes.

John only had eyes for Rodney’s bed, the covers rumpled and thrown aside. As he approached the bed, he clumsily slipped out of his shirt, struggling for a moment when the cloth got tangled around his neck, and got to work on his belt. His belt was next, and after a few frustrating moments in which the fog in his brain was preventing his fingers from achieving his goal, Rodney stepped into his line of vision.

He reached out slowly and undid John’s belt, and as Rodney slid it from the loops of his pants, he glanced up to meet John’s eyes. Rodney had turned the bathroom light on while John struggled to escape his shirt, and the light was just enough to see the heat in Rodney’s eyes. A curl of arousal spread through John’s belly and his dick twitched.  He reached out to take a handful of Rodney’s soft shirt and pulled him close, giving him a messy, firm kiss. Rodney’s lips were chapped and the kiss was over before he could really respond, but John felt better for having done it. The corner of Rodney’s lip quirked up.

“There’s a spare toothbrush on the sink,” he said quietly. “Hurry up and come to bed. You look exhausted.” He reached up and untangled John’s hand from his shirt, rubbing his thumb over John’s pulse point before letting go. He gave John a nudge toward the bathroom and turned toward the bed. Facing the light directly blinded John momentarily, and that combined with his bare feet on the cold tile resulted in a quiet noise of discomfort escaping his mouth.

Rodney’s bathroom was probably the cleanest room in the house, with his hygiene products laid out carefully on the counter. John’s toothbrush was sitting next to Rodney’s, still in its wrapper. John struggled to get it open for a moment before resorting to using his teeth. His reflection in the mirror was startling: his hair was sitting close to his head, except for those few, stubborn cowlicks; his eyes were red-rimmed and wild; and his skin was a washed out grey. No wonder Rodney was insisting they go to bed.

After finishing his pre-bed routine, John unsteadily walked his way back into Rodney’s room. With the bathroom light now off, the room was too dark to see comfortably. John kicked something heavy and winced at the sharp pain, tripped over what felt like a pile of clothing, and walked right into Rodney’s nightstand. Something fell over, hitting another object made of glass.

“Oops,” John said, blindly reaching out to set things right. “Let me just - I’m sorry, I-”

A light came on. It emanated from John’s hand, from the thing he was holding, and John’s head was filled with whispers, with the nudge and grasp of something foreign. It felt familiar and comforting and odd, all at the same time. His fingertips tingled.

“They sank it,” John said suddenly, the words coming from deep inside, beyond conscious thought. “Sank it just like in the stories, but it’s still there. It had a shield…”

Rodney spoke vehemently in another language, his tone giving his feelings away. His warm hand grabbed John’s, pried the object loose, and the light went out. The voices in his head faded to a dim murmur and the tingling stopped. John blinked rapidly, coming back to himself. He swayed where he stood.

“Rodney,” he muttered. He paused, trying to think of something to say. His brain didn’t cooperate, the long, sleepless days catching up with him. There was simply nothing in John’s head for him to grasp, wrangle into a coherent sentence. “Sleeping. Is a thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Rodney replied, putting a hand on John’s shoulder. “But we need to go. You have to come with me, right now.”

“Mmm? Go where?” Could John sleep there?

Rodney’s words were like a glass of cold water poured over his head, adrenaline jolting through him, forcing awareness back into his tired body.

“We’re going to the mountain.”


	2. In which there are answers

“The mountain? Why are we going there in the middle of the damn night?”

Rodney didn’t respond, merely pushed John out the front door. He was apparently all set to leave with his house still unlocked, but John wouldn’t budge until, with a heavy sigh, Rodney turned around to lock his door.

“I just want to sleep,” John protested, even as he buckled himself in. Rodney nodded absently, backing out of his driveway a bit too quick. John sighed and hunkered down.

Rodney refused to answer any of John’s questions on the ride to the mountain. Giving up and settling in for a small nap on the ride - and absolutely not pouting - the only sound was the noise of tires on road, filling the silence between them. When they pulled off the road and through the gates that led to the parking lot of Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Rodney looked excited and anxious. He kept shooting quick little glances at John from beneath his absurdly long eyelashes. John wanted to soothe him, calm him down, but Rodney seemed reluctant to let John touch him.

Actually getting into the mountain was a long process. John still carried his military ID in his wallet, and though he was no longer a member of the armed forces, it seemed to make things go smoother - for a while, at least. After moving through a doorway with the biggest, thickest blast door John had ever seen, the questions and identification checks became much more stringent. John had been on his fair share of secret bases - being a member of the special forces went hand in hand with those - but everything felt more intense, here. Apprehension sang along his nerves in parallel with the  tension John could feel gathering in his muscles with every identification check, every time they had to switch elevators to go deeper, further into the Earth. John was a flyboy; being swallowed up by the ground made him itchy, restless.

What the hell were they doing this far beneath NORAD?

The elevator finally stopped at level seventeen, and John exited the small space with no small amount of trepidation. He was clearly in over his head, far beyond the clearance level he had when he was still part of the military, and everything had a dreamlike quality. Less than an hour ago he’d been getting ready for bed. The only reason he was here was because he’d touched a nightlight that spoke inside his head. This whole situation fit the definition of _unreal_.

John wanted to go back to Rodney’s quiet apartment and just sleep. Instead, he was being led into a room dominated by a large, five sided table.  The cement walls, metal table, and bright lights gave the room a washed out, bleak look. As though that weren’t enough, there were two people already in the room, one of whom was a full bird colonel. John’s hand twitched as he fought not to salute the woman. Instead, they shared a sleepy nod. The woman’s smile was friendly, and even tired and clearly just out of bed - messy hair, puffy face - she was beautiful.

In contrast, the man next to her didn’t appear to be tired at all. He bounced on his feet, chatting with Rodney. His attractive face was lit up with excitement, blue eyes sparkling, and watching the two of them go back and forth was interesting. There certainly was a lot of passion between the two of them - though mostly of the scientific nerd variety, John hastened to reassure himself, watching as the other man touched Rodney’s shoulder.

“I’m Colonel Samantha Carter,” the woman introduced, and gestured for everyone to take a seat. John made sure to take the one next to Rodney before the other man could, and slid his chair close enough to bump his leg against Rodney’s. It was comforting, to have him there, at John’s side. Even if it _was_ Rodney’s fault he was there in the first place.

“This is Doctor Daniel Jackson,” Colonel Carter continued, and Jackson waved. John nodded back. “We hear you have a special skill we could use.”

“Uh,” John said, uncertain.

“The gene,” Rodney cut in. He leaned forward. “He lit up the data crystal and could interpret the data it contained, even without a rigged interface.”

Carter’s eyebrows rose. She was clearly impressed by whatever that meant.

“We need all the gene carriers we can take, but we have to test how strong his gene is first,” Jackson commented. “We have certain items that not even Jack can activate that could turn the tide of war.

“War?” John asked, startled. He was ignored.

“He spoke of the city,” Rodney confided, voice full of too much emotion to name. “He said it was sunk, but had a shield.”

“Did he say where?” Jackson asked. He looked ready to leap across the table and interrogate them both. Despite John’s military training, the look in his eyes was more than a little intimidating. John leaned away, trying to make it look casual, but Carter’s amused look told him she caught the movement.

“All of this is moot if he doesn’t sign the nondisclosure,” Carter pointed out patiently. That shut both men up for a moment, mouths hanging open. Beside him, Rodney took a deep breath, preparing to speak for John.  Carter cut him off before he could get started. “I will not allow him to be pressured into such a decision, Rodney. He needs to make this choice on his own.”

“But-” Rodney began.

“Alone,” Carter repeated, and Rodney deflated. She waited a moment, in which Rodney remained silent, before she turned back to John. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you details until you sign the papers. But what we do here is vitally important, with far-reaching consequences. And we could really use your help.”

“Because of my genes?” John gave her a skeptical look.

Carter didn’t reply verbally, but she did smile.

“Okay,” John drawled, slightly disbelieving.

“This is some of the most important work you’ll ever have a hand in,” Rodney broke in. John was surprised he had been quiet this long. “It’s - it’s huge. Forget what you think you know about anything.”

John hesitated. He felt as though he were balanced on the edge of a void. A big decision loomed before him: step back or dive in? He could go back to his life, which - despite the occasional weirdness - was a good one. He was happy. John didn’t think Rodney would refuse to have anything to do with him if he said no.

But whatever was happening here, it was important enough for a Colonel to be called out of bed. Big enough that Rodney dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night, to the mountain. Rodney had vouched for him through the security checks, the hand scans. John had been hearing stories about this place for years now, even stationed in Afghanistan. Did he want to see how deep the rabbit-hole went?

John looked at Rodney, at the eyes that glittered with excitement, at the mouth twisted with nerves. John could get to know more about Rodney, about what he did all day in the mountain, why he was sometimes out of contact for days on end.

“I’ll take the red pill,” John announced, and the decision felt right. Jackson had mentioned a war and John never backed down from a fight, not when they needed him.

Rodney’s laugh was full of relief. He rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled. “You and your stupid references.”

“I’ll go get the papers,” Carter offered, and stood up. A thought occurred to John and he half-stood, awkwardly hovering over his chair.

“Sir,” he said. The word slipped out before he could censor it. He might as well get used to calling people that; this was a military base, and old habits died hard. “Do I - am I getting rank back? Will I be joining on as a civilian?”

Carter paused in the doorway. She looked from John to Rodney and back again, lips pursed. “We can decide that after you sign the papers. Let me bring in someone who is authorized to make those decisions.”

With John yet to sign the nondisclosure papers, there were limited topics to converse on. John settled back in his chair and tilted his head back, prepared to take a light nap. If this base was like any he’d been on previously, it would take some time to gather the papers and get the person Carter had referred to. It was easy to slip into that light doze that let John wake at a moment’s notice; his body remembered what to do, though this was no active war zone.

John jerked to awareness at the scrape of a chair echoed through the room. Jackson had stood, smiling politely, and pointed at the door Carter had exited through.

“I’m just going to see what’s taking so long,” He murmured. “Talk amongst yourselves.”

John watched him leave and turned to ask Rodney what that was about. He stopped short when he really looked at Rodney, taking in his pale face and the way he was rubbing his fingers together, a nervous gesture John had noticed early on.

“What’s up, buddy?” John asked softly,  bumping his shoulder against Rodney’s. Rodney jumped as though startled, staring at John with big blue eyes.

“John,” he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. “There’s something you should know. That I can’t tell you yet. I’m, uh. See, I haven’t been...completely honest with you. About things. Not all things! I told you as much truth as I could, given the circumstances, but you’ll be finding some things out soon and I would really prefer to tell you myself, though that’s probably not likely to happen. I just want you to know ahead of time that I wanted to tell you.”

“Okay?” John blinked. He’d known Rodney hadn’t been telling him everything, couldn’t because of the secret nature of his work. It’d never made Rodney his nervous before.

Rodney leaned forward and pressed a shaky kiss to John’s mouth. John cupped the back of Rodney’s head when he made to pull away, pressing a firm kiss to Rodney’s lips. The knowledge that they were probably on camera didn’t make him hesitate; instead, it was satisfying to give his former employers yet another _fuck you_. They apparently needed him desperately, and a civilian position was on the table.  He kissed him again, and again, hoping the soft, warm kisses soothed, calmed Rodney down from the agitated state. Somehow, it seemed just like Rodney to freak out in a situation where _John_ should be the one freaked out, but calming Rodney down had John distracted in the best kind of way. It settled him, to have someone else to focus on.

When he finally pulled away, Rodney’s eyes were closed, his breathing steady. John smiled at him and Rodney looked reassured, even managing a smile back. The door behind John opened and he dropped his hand from the back of Rodney’s head. He turned, opening his mouth to greet Carter or Jackson, and nearly swallowed his tongue instead.

The General from the police station was taking a seat where Jackson had been sitting. He was quickly followed by Carter and Jackson, who sat on either side of him. The General looked impossibly awake, brown eyes bright and amused. Despite this aura of playfulness, there was a vibe of competency about him; John wouldn’t have wanted to go against him on a battlefield. He smirked at John.

“Howdy, folks. General O’Neill, with two L’s.” He pointed at himself.

“Sir,” John said. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, given the way his night was going. Rodney was once again fidgeting beside him. John spread his legs out until his knee was touching Rodney’s, hoping that small touch would help. It seemed to; Rodney relaxed back into his seat, sending John a single apprehensive glance before focusing on O’Neill.

“I hear you’ve decided to join our little program,” O’Neill continued. “We appreciate the difficulty of your decision given the secret nature of our work, blah blah, sign these papers.” He tossed a thick packet of papers at John, held in order by a couple of binder clips. Despite the late hour and how tired he was feeling, now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, John took the time to flip through the papers, skimming thoroughly and professionally, a skill he had learned at his father’s knee. Though Patrick Sheppard would never sign important papers after a mere skimming, a quick glance let him decide whether to reject the offer immediately, or take the time to send them for review.

It took only a few minutes for John to make his way through the papers, and after a moment of hesitation, John signed his name on every necessary line. Rodney exhaled in a loud whoosh when he was done, straightening in his seat and lifting his chin. He looked toward Carter.

“Where do we even start?”

“The beginning has always been a good place,” John offered, slouching in his seat.

“In 1928, an alien artefact was discovered on a dig in Giza,” Jackson began. “A ring that uses a series of glyphs, carved around the circumference of the ring, that represent star constellations. These glyphs are the means with which the ring, called a Stargate - or in the language of the gate builders, _Astria Porta -_ pinpoint and connect to another Stargate on another planet, allowing instantaneous travel between worlds. These gates make up a network spread throughout the Milky Way galaxy.”

O’Neill cleared his throat meaningfully. “Short version, Daniel. It’s late and my bed misses me.”

Jackson blinked. “Uh, right. Um. Stargate Command has been using this device to explore other worlds, discover new technology, and negotiate alliances among the alien races we encounter. Quite successfully, though not without some, uh, challenges. Which we can cover tomorrow,” he added hurriedly, at O’Neill’s look.

“The people who built the gates, whom we call Ancients, left behind a great deal of technology. A lot of it is usable only by their descendants, however,” Carter cut in. “A sort of built-in security. The ATA gene, or Ancient Technology Activation gene, is pretty rare.”

“Aliens,” John repeated slowly.

“Yes,” Jackson agreed.

“As in, ‘take me to your leader’, aliens?” John continued, mind reeling. Of all the things this secret program could have been about, all the theories that  John and his buddies had speculated about through the years, aliens hadn’t even made the list. The entire night had felt kind of unfocused, dream-like, but now it felt so unreal John was getting the creeping feeling this _had_ all been a weird dream.

Beside him, Rodney snorted.

"Yep,” O’Neill confirmed. He turned thoughtful. “I don’t think any of them have said that phrase, though.”

“The point is,” Jackson continued, and rolled his eyes at O’Neill, “You’re a descendent of the Ancients. From what Rodney reported, you have a strong expression of the gene. Even Jack had been unable to activate that data crystal.”

Ignoring O’Neill’s _not for lack of hours and hours of trying_ complaint, John vaguely recalled Rodney saying something about a gene. When had he had time to send in a report? When John had been sleeping in the car?

“Okay,” John nodded. If this were a dream, he should just go with the flow.

“Okay?” Rodney asked, incredulous. “That’s it? You’ve just been let in on the biggest secret of the entire Earth, and -”

“Rodney,” Carter broke in. “He needs time to process. We can fully debrief him tomorrow, after he gets some sleep.”

“I have work tomorrow,” John said, numbly.

“I’m sure Everett will excuse you,” O’Neill said dryly. That’s right, John remembered. O’Neill had visited the chief at the station. Which meant that Everett knew - - and the guys in the bathroom, did they know? Did everyone in John’s life know? John had figured the scientists who lived in Manitou Springs knew; if you didn’t own a business or have a job in town, then you worked at the mountain.

He felt a headache coming on. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes squinting against the light.

“I think it might be best if we give them a room here,” Carter said. “I think once Major Sheppard is asleep, he won’t be waking up for a while, unless interrupted.”

“Not a major anymore,” John mumbled. Falling into bed sounded like a really, really good idea though. Especially if it included skipping the drive back to Rodney’s apartment. John turned to see if Rodney objected, but he was nodding in agreement, crooked mouth turned down. He wasn’t sure what was still bothering Rodney, but whatever it was could be dealt with tomorrow.

“Just one room,” John clarified, leaning closer to Rodney. If he had been hoping for a reaction - especially from Carter or O’Neill - he was out of luck. They simply nodded, gathered the few items they had brought with them, and left. John deliberately took his time leaving, standing and stretching, groaning at how good it felt. When he was certain they were a ways ahead of them, he left, Rodney falling into step beside him.

“Hey,” John asked, softly. “What’s up, buddy?”

“Nothing,” Rodney replied. He was staring down at his feet and John had to guide him closer to John’s side to allow a marine to pass by. Though John wasn’t one for public displays, seeing Rodney so obviously upset motivated him to take Rodney’s hand, holding it loosely in his own. Nobody in the corridor seemed to care, not even giving them a second glance.

“Is this about what you mentioned earlier? Something you wanted to tell me but couldn’t?” John murmured. Rodney’s side glance said he was right on the money.

“We’ll be in our room soon, you can tell me then,” John suggested. Rodney nodded grimly, looking more upset than ever, and didn’t speak while they were assigned their temporary quarters. He didn’t say goodnight when the others left them, and the elevator ride up to level fifteen was made in silence. John was starting to get worried. Anxiety made Rodney talk _more_ , not less.

By the time the door to their temporary quarters closed behind them, John was almost as tense as Rodney was. John couldn’t figure out what could be bigger than aliens. What else could there possibly be?

John toed out of his shoes and sat down on the stiff bed, leaning over to tug his socks off. Rodney hovered next to him, wringing his hands. John raised an eyebrow as he dropped his pants.

“You gonna sleep in that?” He inclined his head to indicate Rodney’s clothing. During the mad rush to get John out the door, he’d found the time to slip into loose fitting pants, though his soft sleep shirt remained. He looked tired, and John wondered if that wasn’t contributing to his anxiety. Everything seemed much worse when you were running on little sleep.

“No,” Rodney muttered, and began to strip down to his boxers. John climbed into the bed first, wiggling to find a comfortable position. Though he’d slept on harder surfaces than this bed, it had been a while. Once he was settled, Rodney climbed in next to him, pressing close, shoving his face into John’s neck. John rubbed his back absently and hoped waiting patiently was the right way to get Rodney to talk. Already he could feel sleep fogging his mind.

“You gonna talk?” John mumbled. He pressed a kiss to Rodney’s temple and nuzzled his soft hair.

“No,” Rodney said finally. “I just want tonight, okay? Just for tonight, you and me.”

“I was hoping for a little more than just tonight,” John replied, a little surprised.

“Me too,” Rodney muttered. John blinked, confused, but no amount of nudging or whining would annoy Rodney into talking. John gave up eventually and eased into sleep, Rodney a warm weight at his side, hoping that whatever tomorrow brought, he would face it  with Rodney at his side.  


.=.=.=.=.

It was odd waking up in a room that had no windows to let in the sunlight. John shifted under Rodney’s sprawled body, feeling the pressing urge to visit the bathroom. There was a wet spot on his shoulder from where Rodney had drooled on him, and the combined weight of both blankets and Rodney had him feeling overheated. Despite this, he was feeling happier than he had for some time.

Eventually the urge to pee grew too strong and John shifted out from under Rodney. John was as careful as he could be, but there was really no smooth way to shift Rodney’s weight, and he rolled back onto the bed into the space where John had just vacated with a little more force than John had been going for. To John’s amusement, Rodney didn’t appear to notice.

It was approaching noon when John exited the bathroom post-shower wrapped in a scratchy, military issue towel. He had no clothes but the ones he came in, so he put them back on with a grimace of distaste. Rodney was still snoring away on the bed, and John was tempted to let him rest, but he couldn’t stay cooped up in the tiny room for too long, and there was no way John was venturing out without him. The place was a maze and John hadn’t been issued a base ID the night before. Plus, it would be only Rodney’s presence that would prevent John from feeling cut off from his ‘real’ life back home, adrift in this new, intimidating world of inter-planetary travel and aliens.

John took his time waking Rodney despite the late hour, with soft touches and little nibbles on his neck. Rodney woke slowly, groaning for coffee even before his eyes opened, and when John kissed him he tasted like morning breath and sleep.

“Good afternoon,” John greeted cheerfully. He chuckled at the sight of the creases that lined one side of Rodney’s face, put there by the wrinkles in John’s shirt. Rodney glared and patted his messy hair into some semblance of order. “There’s an unused toothbrush and a towel in the bathroom.”

While Rodney showered, John remade the bed - some habits never really disappear - and gathered their discarded things. He had just finished tying his boots when Rodney stumbled back into the room for his clothes. Rodney paused when he noticed John sitting on the bed, watching him. His skin was wet and flushed from the heat, and John was very aware that there was nothing but a flimsy towel separating Rodney and nudity. John gave him a once-over through half-lidded eyes, lips curling into an appreciative smile.

Rodney deliberately brushed against him as he leaned down to grab his clothes from the bed. John had to remind himself that he had a tour to get through before there could be any naked fun, though it was difficult to remember that when Rodney’s pink nipples were on display, when his skin was wet and touchable and _right there_. John damn near swallowed his tongue when Rodney allowed the towel to fall off his hips just before he closed the bathroom door, cutting off John’s view of his very round, lush ass.

He would get him back later for being such a tease, John promised himself.

John was off the bed and in Rodney’s space as soon as he exited the bathroom. John backed him up against the wall and pulled him in for a deep, wet kiss. Their lips clung together as John pulled away, and Rodney’s smug smile had been replaced by open mouthed pants for air. Rodney moved as though to pull him back in, but John stepped out of reach, tilting his head toward the door.

“We need to eat before I’m fully debriefed, and then I have a tour to get through,” he said. “We’ll pick this up later, I promise.”

Rodney nodded, though he didn’t look at all convinced. He hurriedly put on his socks and shoes, grabbed his wallet and jacket, and was in the middle of opening the door when he spun around, his eyes wild. He grabbed John by the shoulders and planted one hard kiss on him. Before John could react, he was out the door and down the hall. John shut the door to their temporary quarters and tried not to think about the desperation in that last kiss.

.=.=.=.=.

Being read in on the expedition gave John the same feeling flying in a war zone did. Exhilaration, fear, and a little bit of stomach churning at the sharp turns. Things felt more real now that he’d gotten some sleep, but it was hard to integrate the reality of evil aliens and secret space wars with everyday life. Even the idea that many of the aliens on the other side of the gate were just regular people trying to make it through the day was hard to accept. The truth was both more mundane and more extraordinary at the same time; it was hard to know how to react.

“Much of sentient life on other planets looks just like you or me, with maybe some small differences in physiology,” Jackson (“please, call me Daniel!”) said. “But the further we explore, the more diverse life becomes. The Ancients seeded life on many planets, and the Goa’uld certainly had a hand in spreading humans throughout the galaxy, but on many planets life grew and evolved on its own.”

The SGC wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as it first appeared. Each level was designated for certain use, and the colored lines on the floor acted as a guide. John wouldn’t say he was comfortable with the place yet, but no longer did he feel like he was in a maze of corridors and floors. Daniel had concluded the tour with the cafeteria, where they had stopped for lunch. O’Neill had wandered off some time ago, taking Carter with him.

Whatever their final destination was, Daniel was growing more excited, while Rodney grew more pale. They had taken the elevator the level below the Stargate, which led only to a nondescript room with a wide, metal platform. An unrecognizable language was carved into the edges of the platform, which made John’s head buzz unpleasantly the longer he stared. Upon closer inspection, John noticed the material that made up the platform wasn’t metal at all. And it glowed a dull green.

Despite his uneasiness, he stepped up on the platform with Rodney and Daniel. The glowing grew more intense, and the floor pulsed a little, as though energy was building up below their feet.

“This transporter technology was discovered early in our travels, long before we knew anything about Ancient technology. It’s not as, uh, smooth as the Ancient version, but it gets the job done.” Daniel explained. “Men in Black Headquarters, New York.”

The walls went streaky and with a jolt that turned John’s stomach, they were suddenly in another, brighter room. The walls were still undecorated and there were no windows. High up on the walls, near the ceiling, fans turned behind metal grating, presumably to keep the room cool. Daniel gestured for them to step off the platform.

“There are several Men in Black stations around the world - including one housed right in the SGC - but the New York station is probably the biggest. It’s a much better option to introduce new personnel to alien life.” Daniel sent him an excited grin as they approached the door, which opened into another, much larger elevator. There were only two buttons in the elevator - up and down - and Daniel bounced as he pushed ‘up’.

When the doors opened at the top, John stepped into another world.

It was an enormous room, filled with activity. Sunlight filtered through giant windows, highlighting the beings who were standing in a line. Beings of all shapes, sizes and colors, some humanoid and some...not, all of them waiting with varying degrees of patience while men in suits flipped through papers, typed on computer screens, and fulfilled the drudgery of bureaucracy. John was surprised that everyone was speaking English, even the goopy, purple alien that had no visible mouth. It took a moment for John to realize that these aliens had to have come through the Stargate, which, if he had understood Daniel’s lecture, acted as a translator.  He was willing to accept that as read, Rodney’s attempt to explain the science of it all was well beyond him.

“This is Division Fifty-two - or as it’s colloquially known, the Men in Black. It’s a subsection of the SGC. They monitor, licence, and police alien activity on Earth. This is an important part of what we do. It’s not enough to simply go out and make allies -”

“- or bring back useful technology,” Rodney added. He looked rather ill, so John sidled closer, brushing the backs of their hands together as they walked. Rodney smiled at him and John calmed.

“Many of these beings are the last of their kind, or nearly so.” Daniel continued without pause. “While it wouldn’t be possible to move an entire population to Earth, we can offer them a home when they’re few in number due to disease, or more likely, to the interference of the Goa’uld. If an entire population needs to be relocated, we do our best to find a habitable planet that’s free from Goa’uld influence.”

“How exactly do they go unnoticed on Earth?” John asked. There was an alien just a few feet away, looking very much like a shaggy dog, until it stood on two legs and its...hair...began to wiggle about. John very carefully did not think of tentacles.

“Technological advancements have given us an edge in holographic concealment and machine-like bodies that allow some people to fit inside. The more, uh, difficult ones are usually set up in a more remote location.” Daniel admitted. “Some of the more advanced aliens are invited to work at the SGC, to share their technology and study Ancient tech, which tends to be a bit more advanced than we’re used to. We can use all the help we can get with it, and people of other worlds bring a fresh perspective.”

“And those who can’t offer any expertise?”

“We set them up with a fake identity, a place to live, and a low-key job, such as a shop owner.” Someone new spoke up, and John turned to find another ubiquitous man in black, a stern looking man with a slightly craggy face and thick eyebrows over tired eyes. His smile was welcoming, if mostly perfunctory. John got the impression that this was a man who had been on the job for many years - competency was evident in every movement, an ease that spoke of experience. Behind him hovered an attractive, dark-skinned man who looked a little rough around the edges. His suit was torn, which was a novelty in a room full of immaculately dressed people. There was also some bright pink goop down his back. They exchanged a brief nod as he disappeared into the crowd.

“Agent Kay,” Daniel greeted warmly.

“Doctor Jackson,” Agent Kay greeted with a single nod. “It’s not every day we get someone such as you in these parts.”

“Giving a tour,” Daniel explained briefly, and gestured toward John standing next to Rodney. Agent Kay turned to them, giving John a polite smile. Rodney edged behind him.

“How are you finding the program?”

“Uh, enlightening,” John said. It was hard to pick a word that encompassed the many emotions he was currently struggling with. Just yesterday his life had been relatively simple. Inexplicably, John found himself thinking _now this is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down..._

“Overwhelmed? Happens to all the newbies, kid.”

John made a face at being called kid but nodded gamely enough. He kind of hoped that he wouldn’t be assigned to work here, if he was offered a place in the program. It was a little too much to start with. The SGC, despite being home to the Stargate and all of the recovered tech, felt more ‘his world’ than this place.

“McKay,” Agent Kay greeted. He tilted his head to the side.

“Agent,” Rodney said stiffly.

“Still giving your handlers trouble?” He smiled.

“Still being a dick?” Rodney returned snidely. In response, Kay’s smile grew wider, amusement wrinkling the corners of his eyes. Behind him, John caught sight of a [giant, fish-like humanoid with blue skin](http://stargate.wikia.com/wiki/Ohne) and a love of shoulder pads. It took a moment for his brain to process what he’d heard, and John turned abruptly toward Rodney.

“Handlers?”

“Oh,” Rodney said quietly. That anxious, sick look was back. “Uh, yes. You see, I - that is to say, things may have been...a bit less than fully truthful, though of course it’s not as though I was in any position to explain fully, given our respective situations until early this morning -”

“McKay’s one of ours,” Agent Kay said. John felt very lightheaded and his body went very hot, like he had stepped into a too-hot bath. His palms broke out into a cold sweat and a whooshing noise drowned out the busy cacophony around him.

“One of yours,” He repeated through shock numbed lips.

“From PX7-424,” Daniel supplied happily, oblivious to John’s reaction. He sounded as though he were speaking from a distance, John’s ears still ringing in disbelief.  “He comes from a technologically advanced people who developed this fascinating means of connecting to technology, which grants them the ability to interface directly with it. They’re implanted at birth with a fiber indigenous to their planet that facilitates the connection. We’re not quite sure how it works, to be honest, and there aren’t many of Rodney’s people left to ask.”

“Your people,” John repeated, and now he was feeling cold. His hands shook. “You - all this time, and you were...” So much made sense now. He was probably one of those technologically advanced aliens the SGC found so useful.

John dug the palm of his hand into his right eye, trying to push back the headache beginning to form.

“John,” Rodney said quietly, and he looked miserable. His eyes looked almost grey, his skin pale. His crooked mouth, which John loved so much, was turned down. “I wanted to tell you. At first I couldn’t, and then I was afraid you’d...react badly.”

“I,” John began, but he wasn’t sure how to continue. How _did_ he feel? He wasn’t sure. John felt as though the ground beneath his feet were tilting, only John was rooted to the floor, left flailing and trying futilely to adjust to this askew perspective.

“Maybe we should give them a moment,” Daniel suggested to Agent Kay, who definitely looked as though he’d rather be elsewhere.

“No!” John said quietly, surprising himself. Rodney ducked his head, shoulders slumping, and John felt a twinge of guilt. He didn’t want to hurt Rodney, but he no longer felt sure of how to interact with him. Rodney wasn’t who John thought he was; he had an entire life experience different from John’s own. John had suspected such, given some of Rodney’s quirks, but nothing to this extent. Did he really know Rodney at all?

John wanted to say he did. Perhaps not as well as he’d thought, but he still knew how Rodney took his coffee, how he drooled when he slept, and how he had a massive crush on Captain Picard. Surely, that meant something. After a moment's thought, John had to conclude that it did. He just needed time to adjust, that’s all. Too much information had been shoved at him too quickly. He just needed time.

“I think - could we finish this tour later?” John asked though a tight throat. Daniel nodded and glanced between the two of them, looking guilty. Rodney refused to look at John, taking care to keep Daniel between the two of them the entire trip back to the SGC. The lurch of the transporter made John’s stomach roll this time. Before he had fully recovered, Rodney sent him a shaky smile and was off the platform and heading for the exit. His usual ground eating stride was elevated to ‘nearly running’, and John didn’t want to say anything in front of Daniel, but Rodney was getting away fast.

“Rodney, can we -”

But Rodney was gone, and John was left with a sympathetic looking Daniel, a head full of confusing thoughts, and a whole lotta emotional turmoil.  


.=.=.=.=.

John didn’t want to go to the meeting with General O’Neill after the day he’d had.. He wanted to return to his - to _their_ quarters, get his head on straight, and then track down Rodney. But when a General summons, the call is answered, whether or not you’re still in the military.

Daniel did his best to keep him distracted, offering him tidbits of information that he’d missed out on by abandoning the tour early. It _was_ interesting stuff and he did his best to pay attention, though his heart wasn’t in it. This would all be extremely cool, John knew, once he had a moment to take everything in.

“Manitou Springs is actually the main alien settlement on Earth. It’s an established town now but it was originally created for the sole purpose of acting as a temporary relocation site for displaced refugees.”

“On the run from the Guac-things,” John filled in. Daniel blinked and adjusted his glasses.

“The Goa’uld, yes. Some of them have been slaves to the Goa’uld for generations, their people massacred due to rebellion or to act as an example. The war has the Goa’uld scrambling, and this unfortunately means they’re on the lookout for new worlds to provide an increasing need for slaves.”

“Sucks,” John said feelingly.

“Uh, yes. That’s one way to put it. Manitou Springs is actually unique in that everyone there is either an alien or a former SGC personnel, except you, of course.Though from what I hear, you were to be read in eventually, anyway.”

“My special gene,” John replied, annoyed. He’d rather have been invited in for an actual skill, and not a twist of fate. John might not have many talents, but he was a damn fine pilot.

They entered the same conference room as before, with O’Neill already waiting for him. Without taking his eyes off his laptop, he held up one finger, signaling for them to wait, and made a noise of triumph a moment later. His brown eyes sparkled as he smiled. Next to him, Carter discreetly rolled her eyes.

“Solitaire,” he informed the room, “is worth holding up a meeting for.”

John took the same seat he had the night before, though this time the chair next to his was empty in a way that jabbed at him. He rubbed his chest, trying to get rid of the feeling. He’d track Rodney down later, they’d talk, and John would get over his short-sighted reaction. He was certain if he could just sit down with Rodney, he’d get over the freak out prickling under his skin.

“So,” O’Neill sighed. He closed the lid of his laptop and slide it away from the edge of the table, giving him room to rest his elbows. He sent John a considering look. “As exciting as working as a police officer in a small town is - whether that town is full of aliens or not - we have something else in mind.”

“Utilizing my gene,” John said, filled with certainty.

“Got it in one,” O’Neill confirmed.

“What exactly would my duties be, sir?”

“You’ll be helping out in the labs studying all the tech we have piled up,” O’Neill explained. John made a face at the idea of being cooped up in a lab day in and day out. He supposed that the math would help stave off the stir-crazy John knew he’d be fighting, but eventually being buried under a mountain would get to him.

“We were thinking we might put you on an offworld team too,” Carter put in, giving him a knowing look. O’Neill snapped his fingers and pointed at her, nodding.

“No first contact, of course, but if we find an Ancient outpost, we’d choose your team to check it out. Gotta keep your strong, shiny gene safe.”

Now that was more like it. Visiting alien worlds, maybe finding cool spaceships or weapons along the way...John could get behind that. He suspected the missions wouldn’t always be as boring as they made it sound; it’s hard to declare an entire planet safe. Plus, playing with alien tech years beyond anything on Earth was just asking for danger.

John tried to hide just how excited he was. As casually as he could, he asked, “Can I have anyone I want on my team?”

This time it was O’Neill who gave him a knowing look. “Within reason, but you betcha.”

John smiled. “This is going to be so cool.”  
  


.=.=.=.=.

Finding Rodney to apologize was easier said than done. Though John was getting used to the SGC’s maze-like corridors, it still took him longer than everyone else to make his way from point A to point B which gave Rodney plenty of time to slip away, though how he knew John was coming, John wasn’t sure. He suspected Rodney’s timely escapes were aided by his minions, who alternated between cool disdain and angry death glares whenever John slouched through the doorway. Eventually John gave up and retreated to his assigned quarters, further crushed by the complete lack of any evidence Rodney had ever been there.

John had been given several folders full of information on the program, a slip of paper that listed his log-in username and password to the SGC intranet, and select mission AARs to peruse. With nothing else to do, he opened the first and settled in to read, trying to fill the silence of the room.

It was hunger that forced John from his room, and it was only the uncertainty on whether he could take a plate back to his rooms that had him eating in the cafeteria, tucked into a corner all by himself. There were a few aliens eating in the cafeteria and he did his best not to stare, though there wasn’t anything else nearly so interesting to look at in the drab, concrete room. Without Rodney’s presence to distract him, he felt more cut adrift than ever. He didn’t linger.

John was relieved to see Carter headed right for him as he left the cafeteria, a kind smile on her face.

“Major, I was just looking for you,” She greeted.

“I’m not a Major anymore,” He objected.

“Ah, right,” Carter nodded. “We did forget to mention - it _is_ possible for you to be reinstated, if you wanted. Jack - General O’Neill has a history of, uh, making his own decisions in the heat of battle. He...sympathizes.”

John froze. The idea of regaining what he lost...he wanted it with an ache that filled his entire being. The reports he’d been given had mentioned F-302’s and a ship specifically designed to go through the gate, and to say he wanted to go for a ride was an understatement. Still, he hesitated.

Carter noticed and sidled a little closer, widening her eyes in an earnest look. “Major, given the sort of situations that soldiers regularly encounter on the other side of the gate, applicants are heavily screened for any sort of bias or hatred. The SGC also serves as an international - well, intergalactic, really - base, which means that several U.S.-based military rules of conduct have been waived.”

John could feel his ears turning pink, the flush spreading over his cheeks and down his neck. He ducked his head and unsuccessfully fought the smile pulling at his lips. “So, what do I need to do to be reinstated?”

“Come with me,” Carter said, grinning. John followed happily, already planning to ask pointed questions about the location of Rodney’s lab, what his new duties would entail, and equally as important -

“How soon can I give the F-302’s a ride?”

 

.=.=.=.=.

The process to become reinstated was going to take some time, unfortunately, which meant no sweet spaceship rides for him. In the interim, John would be spending the majority of his time in the labs, helping the scientists. Not the most glamorous job, and he figured he’d be bored of it pretty quickly, but it _did_ give him the perfect excuse to be in Rodney’s vicinity. Rodney couldn’t ignore him forever, right?

Rodney had deftly avoided him until his first day in the lab. There were entire rooms filled with devices which had yet to be activated and catalogued, making it impossible for Rodney to ignore him. But the cold professionalism that greeted John at every turn was somehow so much worse. Rodney’s scientists were not subtle in their attempts to prevent them from being alone together, and John couldn’t bring himself to speak up while there were other people in the room. He tried, but the words got lost between his brain and his mouth.

Seeing the various devices the Ancients had created was by turns amusing and fascinating. One object, which looked just like a sonic screwdriver, could affect time - slowing it down, speeding it up, or even freezing it completely. It was found next to an object that turned out to be a simple laser pointer, which Rodney confiscated with glee. The best part of working in the labs had to be seeing Rodney at work. Watching him solve equations and help the other scientists with a confident ease was entertaining, but watching Rodney interact with technology created by the Goa’uld or other races was where he _really_ shined.

Rodney’s people had long ago mastered technology, going so far as to implant some kind of synthetic...thing in their bodies that allowed direct connection to the technology they handled. The science of it was far beyong John, the medical jargon enough to make his head hurt - and what John got from the end of the report was that the SGC wasn’t quite sure how it worked either, without removing a piece and studying it. But it meant Rodney was able to work out the function of a device and how to repair it with a swiftness that was frankly astonishing. The only reason he wasn’t able to understand the inner workings of Ancient technology was the lack of gene, a barrier impossible for him to overcome.

John was glad that Rodney at least needed him in a professional capacity, even if he wasn’t currently speaking to him personally.

After a while, even going through alien technology got boring. John was trying to figure how long he had to wait before lunch - the clock on the wall was stuck at 4:32pm and nobody had bothered to change the batteries - when he realized that the flat, disc-like object he was trying to hand over to Rodney was stuck to him. He shook his hand, trying to remove it, and was just about to start tugging on it with his other hand when Rodney, heaving an impatient sigh, reaching out and grabbed it.

There was a brief tug of war, Rodney jerking his hand away, taking John’s with it, and John yanking back just because. John watched as Rodney’s face cycled through irritation, realization, fear, and a resignation that him slumping his shoulders.

“Infirmary?” John asked neutrally. Rodney moved their joined hands as though he were trying to make a gesture without even looking at John. Instead, he took a moment to type one-handed on his laptop. John leaned into his personal space to see what he was typing, taking a moment to smell his deodorant, feel the warmth of his body. John ached with missing him, wanted to press against him and rest his chin on Rodney’s shoulder. Instead, he watched as Rodney typed his notes up on the tech, trying not to smile at Rodney’s dedication to science, even in a situation such as this.

“Do _not_ continue without me,” Rodney warned his minions. “Now would be a good time to write up those reports I know you wait last minute to complete.”

“Perhaps I should accompany you?” Radek asked, pushing his glasses up with one finger. He looked concerned.

“No,” Rodney shook his head. “I need you here to keep an eye on things. As much as it pains me to say, I won’t actually die from being stuck in Sheppard’s presence.”

John wasn’t sure what the medical staff could do, but it was SOP to report to the infirmary after any contact with alien technology resulted in a change of status. It gave John the perfect opportunity to start that conversation he’d been hoping to have.

“Uh,” John began tentatively. “Rodney, I…”

“Keep up, Sheppard,” Rodney snapped, though John was only half a step behind. Rodney refused to budge over closer to the wall, so people coming from the opposite direction had to move around John. He murmured apologies as he went, doing his best to edge closer to Rodney, to walk someplace other than the middle of the corridor.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” John said exasperatedly. “I didn’t react well but everything was kind of too much.”

“Poor Sheppard,” Rodney mocked. John had to swallow back his anger, had to remind himself of the hurt in Rodney’s eyes, the way his mouth had been stuck in that permanent curve that meant he was upset and trying to hide it. Rodney had always reacted to vulnerability with sarcasm and anger.

“Not all of us grew up knowing that travel to other planets was a thing,” John continued.

“Right,” Rodney said, in that way that meant he was no longer listening. John stopped walking abruptly, planting his feet and leaning slightly away from Rodney to avoid being pulled along. Rodney jerked to a halt, the pull on their arms causing pain. Rodney whirled on him, eyes wide and angry and impossibly blue. Rodney’s bottom lip trembled minutely, whether from hurt or from rage, John wasn’t sure.

“What the _hell_ is your problem? Why are you doing this? I am doing my best to remain professional and - and - and I’ll have you know that it’s not easy sitting across from you every day, trying to pretend like I don’t care that our two year friendship and potential for something more had up and died on me over something so monumentally stupid as where I was born! Can’t you just leave me alone? I get it, okay. It’s too much. I’m too much.” Rodney finished quietly.

“Rodney, no,” John rasped, ignoring the burn of embarrassment turning his cheeks and ears pink. He steered Rodney into a nearby alcove, feeling exposed standing in the middle of the corridor, and lowered his voice. “I didn’t mean that you were too much. Or - maybe at first? But I just needed to adjust.”

“Adjust,” Rodney replied flatly. He didn’t look at all swayed.

“Yeah,” John said earnestly. He moved in a little closer, ducked his head so their faces were inches apart. Rodney watched him with a blank expression John had never seen before. It didn’t suit him; his was a face made for lively expressions. “Listen, I’m not really good at, uh, personal surprises.”

“You don’t say,” Rodney said sardonically.

“Rodney,” John whined. “I’m trying to bare my soul, here.”

“You’re doing a poor job of it,” Rodney pointed out. John was pleased to see his blank expression thawing, a little bit of humor creeping into his eyes. The tight knot in John’s chest eased for the first time since Rodney had walked away from him, hurting and betrayed.

John shrugged. “Another thing I’m not good at.”

“Mm,” Rodney agreed. He raised his eyebrows and waved his free hand in a circle: _get on with it_.

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What I’m saying is...ah.” Had it always been so stuffy in here? John tugged at his collar with his free hand. The lights were a bit too bright, hurting his eyes. He scratched at his neck, uncomfortable. Seconds ticked by as John searched for the words to match his feelings.

“Do you need a paper and pen to write it out?” Rodney offered, looking exasperated. “Or maybe a paper bag to breathe in. Don’t hyperventilate, I’m not carrying your unconscious body to the infirmary.”

“I’m not hyperventilating,” John snapped. “I’m trying to say you’re important to me, asshole. Jesus, you gotta make everything a big deal.” John rubbed his hand over his face, breathing heavily. His heart pounded in his chest. Instead of looking pleased, Rodney looked offended, his face red and lips pursed.

“That was the least romantic declaration I’ve ever heard,” Rodney complained. “That’s all I get?”

“You drive me _nuts_ ,” John moaned. A headache was forming at the base of his head. “And yet I want you around anyway.”

Rodney stared at him for a moment. Then, his lips twitched. One corner curled up reluctantly. “I suppose it wouldn’t really be _us_ if we were, you know,” he flapped one hand. John straightened from his slouch, hope filling him. It sounded like - yes, Rodney was smiling now, the first one John had seen in days, and relief lifted the weight from his shoulders until his entire body felt lighter.

“True,” he grinned. Rodney’s looked cautiously happy, which John could totally work with. He could make Rodney happy. John had to restrain himself from bouncing on his feet like Rodney did when he was happy and instead limited himself patting Rodney’s upper arm. It took him a moment, fingers sliding down Rodney’s arm until he was holding Rodney’s sleeve down by his wrist, for him to realize the device had let go.

“Oh,” he said, surprised. He nudged it with his toe, but before he could pick it up, Rodney stooped down to snatch it. John opened his mouth to tell him not to touch it, lest they get stuck together again, but Rodney was able to slide it into his pocket with no difficulty.

“I don’t have the gene,” he explained.

“Why do you think it came off?” John asked, confused. Rodney flipped it this way and that, examining it closely. His brow was creased in thought. After a moment, he shrugged.

“My best guess is it acts as a therapy device,” Rodney said, grimacing. He was of the same mind as John about therapy. “It came off after you insulted me in your attempt to declare your feelings.”

“Hey,” John protested lightly. Rodney hadn’t sounded angry. “Should we still go to the infirmary?”

“Probably,” Rodney said reluctantly, and they turned as one, shoulder to shoulder, to visit the infirmary. They shared goofy smiles the whole way there, shoulders bumping. Their arrival was met with distracted orders to sit and wait, as a team had just returned through the gate and needed their post-mission tests completed. John watched as lights were shined in their eyes, as blood samples were taken, as they were taken one by one to be scanned for parasitic snakes.

“If I had known we’d be sitting here for so long, I’d have brought my laptop,” Rodney muttered.

“Getting cleared is important,” John commented. “Not just for safety, but for piece of mind. It’s the price we’re going to pay for going offworld.”

“Yes, but couldn’t they spare - wait, what?”

John blinked at him. “What what?”

“The price we’re going to pay?” Rodney asked, eyes wide. “We, as in you and I?”

John had actually forgotten that he hadn’t asked Rodney to join his team yet, caught up in the excitement of being forgiven. He couldn’t really imagine going out there without Rodney at his back and had maybe taken his participation for granted.

“Uh, if you want? It won’t be for a while - I have to be reinstated and trained first, but...yes?”

“When were you going to mention this?” Rodney demanded, looking surprised.

“Uh,” John said weakly.

“What, were you going to wait just before our first mission?” Rodney asked, outraged. “I can’t believe you.”

“Oops,” John said, but he was smiling, that wide, dorky smile he rarely used. Rodney didn’t, for a moment, act like he was going to say no.

“How is this funny? Do you know what scientists have to do to become offworld certified? God, this is going to cut into my research, I’ll have to dedicate hours learning to shoot instead of, of, a couple hours a week spread out over weeks. Is this the sort of thing you can cram for?” Rodney looked a little panicked.

“Rodney, you’ll be fine,” John laughed. “I’ve got your six.”

“That is so like you, to take that laid back, devil-may-care attitude!” Rodney huffed.

John shrugged. “It’s worked well for me so far.”

 

.=.=.=.=.

The infirmary staff were quite used to running tests at this point and the results were returned in a timely manner. Rodney complained the whole way back to John’s quarters, one hand pressed against the inside of his arm where blood had been drawn. John didn’t even try to shut him up, just let the wall of sound wash over him. His life had been far too quiet of late. It was nice to be around someone who did most of the talking and wasn’t bothered by John’s silences.

The moment Rodney crossed the threshold into John’s room, however, the words petered out. Rodney was looking nervous again, rubbing his fingers together and shifting from foot to foot. John gestured for him to take a seat on the bed and Rodney did so stiffly. Hoping to bring back the easy air of before, John sat next to Rodney and kicked his shoes off. After a pointed look from John, Rodney followed suit, the line of his shoulders relaxing.

The silence that followed was easier. John wasn’t sure where to start. It was difficult to think of Rodney as an _other_ when he was sitting right beside him, as he had done so many times before. Rodney’s presence filled John’s senses like it always had, the smells and view the same. John couldn’t believe he’d ever felt like Rodney was anything but what he’d always been, that he had looked at Rodney and seen a stranger. John wanted to say this, apologize for it, but what came out instead was -

“You’re not from around here, I hear.”

Rodney turned to stare at him incredulously. “ _That’s_ your opening line?”

“I worked hard to come up with that!” John lied, feigning offense.

“I can’t believe you,” Rodney complained. “No, I am not from around here, as you so succinctly put it. I didn’t even know your planet existed until six years ago.”

“Did your people know about the Stargate?” John asked. There was just so much he didn’t know, and Rodney was the first alien he really knew. He’d seen others around, but how do you even begin to approach them?

“Yes. Though we only had a few gate addresses in our archives, so mostly we just...didn’t use it.” Rodney’s mouth twisted down. “We had been exploring nearby planets by spaceship for only fifty years or so when we had our first run-in with the Goa’uld.”

“What happened?” John asked softly.

“Submit to your god, terrible threats, typical megalomaniac stuff,” Rodney said, staring into space. He smiled, though it wasn’t happy. “We chose to fight. But we weren’t - not a lot of our technology was focused on weaponry. SG-1 came stumbling onto our planet during the final siege and evacuated what was left of my people.”

“There are more of you here?”

Rodney shook his head. “Not really. They moved to another planet, hoping to rebuild what we’ve lost. I stayed, hoping to help in the fight against the Goa’uld. What’s the point of rebuilding if they’re going to show up again? And then...I liked it here. You have pizza and burgers and ridiculous fictional storytelling.”

John nudged him, sending him a smug smile. “And me.”

To his surprise, Rodney didn’t roll his eyes or mock him. Instead, he smiled back, bright and happy. “And there’s you.”

John’s smile faded. He knew Rodney had forgiven him for his reaction, but it didn’t seem fair that he could get off so lightly for the hurt he’d caused. John had been practicing in the infirmary and on the way here. “I’m sorry, you know.”

“John,” Rodney sighed.

“No, it needs to be said. I _am_ sorry. I never meant for it to go down like that.”

“I believe it wasn’t something you can really plan for,” Rodney said wryly.

“Point,” John conceded. “But it’s not as though you really changed.”

“I had Radek talking into my ear the entire time we weren’t speaking about how many truths you’d been forced to confront in so little time and shock they must have caused. There’s a good reason your entire planet hasn’t been made aware of the existence of the Stargate. It’s never gone over well in alternate universes - yes, yes -” he replied to John’s wide-eyed look, “- we’ve had contact with parallel universes. I shouldn’t have expected you to easily take such a big revelation about something so close to home. It’s possible I overreacted just a bit. I’d been dreading you learning the truth for so long that when you finally did, and your reaction wasn’t immediately positive, I...freaked out.”

“Mistakes were made,” John offered.

“Yes,” Rodney agreed. “Mistakes were made, forgiveness all around. As important as this discussion is to the health of our future relationship, I didn’t follow you here for this reason.”

“Rodney,” John drawled, “Did you follow me here with designs on my virtue?”

Rodney turned an intriguing shade of pink. He lifted his chin and touched John’s thigh with the tips of his fingers. “I have been a little bit in love with you for at least a year. I think it’s understandable that I’d really like you to take your pants off now.”

John laughed, delighted. “I think that can be arranged. But only if you take yours off.”

Rodney jumped up from his spot on the bed, fingers fumbling with the button on his pants. While Rodney hopped around and awkwardly yanked on his pant leg, John took a more leisurely approach. He was undressed in half the time it took Rodney, who realized he had forgotten to take his socks off only after the lights had been turned out.

John stretched out on his bed, getting comfortable as Rodney tossed his socks to the side. When Rodney turned, he paused, staring down at John. He could feel the tips of his ears burning under Rodney’s admiring gaze, but he arched his back a little, giving Rodney a little show. Rodney made a rough noise in his throat and climbed on top of John, his warm body sliding against John’s. John shivered at the feeling and lifted his head for a kiss. Rodney nipped at John’s bottom lip, licked at his jawline, and John tilted his head back, offering up his neck. Rodney left sucking kisses down his neck and John moaned, arching into Rodney.

John wanted to touch Rodney, too. He wanted to make Rodney feel good, make up in some way for the hurt he’d caused.

“Rodney,” he gasped, whimpering quietly as Rodney sucked on his nipples. “Rodney, I want - can I - I want to suck you.”

Rodney jerked away from John’s chest, eyes falling closed as he reached down to grab his cock. “Jesus, yes.” He moaned.  He rubbed John’s bottom lip with his thumb. John moved until he could suck on it and Rodney’s cock rubbed against John’s leg, leaving a slick trail that felt cold compared to the heat of their bodies. John pushed at Rodney’s shoulders, mouth watering at the thought of Rodney’s cock in his mouth, and Rodney reluctantly moved away.

John waited until he was on his back, head propped up by a pillow, before gripping Rodney’s knees and spreading his legs. Rodney’s cock was thick and flushed, the tip wet and dripping onto his belly. John took a moment to breathe deeply, trying to back off from the edge. Rodney made an attractive picture, spread open on John’s bed, chest flushed, nipples hard, and cock jerking under John’s gaze.

“What you _do_ to me, Rodney,” John said, voice thick. It was as specific as John could get verbally, but it seemed to be enough. Rodney turned away, looking embarrassed.

“Hey, no,” John said, leaning forward to turn his face back toward him. “I want you to watch. I want you to see your cock in my mouth.”

Rodney closed his eyes and moaned loudly, rocking his hips eagerly. John’s own cock was throbbing with need now, leaking and an angry red color. He bit his lip, hoping he’d last long enough for Rodney to touch him. John had never gotten off from blowing someone, but he was close to the edge as it was, and he really wanted Rodney to be touching him with intent the first time they get off together.

John nuzzled Rodney’s cock first, then traced the vein with the tip of his tongue. Rodney made a sharp, loud noise when John’s tongue circled his cockhead. John’s gaze flickered from Rodney’s cock to his eyes, lips curling into a smile as he licked away the precome smeared over the head. He tongued at the slit, enjoying the way Rodney’s head fell back against the pillow in reaction. John wrapped his lips around Rodney’s cock and began to slide down, taking his cock in. Rodney’s hips jerked, nearly choking him, and John pulled off, his hand taking over stroking Rodney off.

“Am I going to have to hold you down?” he asked with amusement, and was a little surprised at the strength of Rodney’s reaction. Rodney screwed his eyes shut and moaned loud enough that John was sure if anyone was in the rooms next to theirs, they’d have heard. Rodney rocked up, his cock brushing against John’s face, and John laughed. He could feel a smear of precome on his cheek and deliberately tilted his head so Rodney had a better view. John’s smile widened at Rodney’s whimper.

John used one hand to pin Rodney’s hip to the bed and swallowed Rodney’s cock, mouth tight. The wet sounds his mouth made were hot, and John couldn’t stop his hips from jerking, rubbing his cock against Rodney’s leg. John hummed as he sucked, enjoying the small jerks of Rodney’s hips, and reached down to play with Rodney’s balls. Rodney’s moans increased, taking on a more desperate edge, and John knew Rodney was getting close. His jaw was beginning to ache, but it didn’t diminish how good Rodney’s cock felt on his tongue, the smell of his sweat and musk. John closed his eyes and just enjoyed, moaning around Rodney’s cock as he pulled up.

John let go of Rodney’s balls and reached down to give his own cock a brief, light stroke. He made a muffled, hungry noise around Rodney’s cock at the feel of his own hand, but reluctantly pulled away. Hand wet with his own precome, he reached down, between Rodney’s legs, further back than he’d gone before. Rodney’s hips were jerking steadily now, his noises loud. A quick glance upward showed Rodney covering his mouth with one hand, unsuccessfully trying to hold back his moans and pleas.

With Rodney’s hips moving, it was difficult to find the right spot, but John found Rodney’s asshole and brushed against it. He circled it with his finger, pressing against it lightly before circling it once again, a light tease. John sucked harder on Rodney’s cock and pushed just the tip of his finger in. Rodney made a loud, broken noise, his cock getting even more stiff in his hand, and came. John lifted off, hurriedly pulling his finger out of Rodney’s ass to stroke him off. Rodney’s chest heaved as his cock jerked, come spurting again and again, covering John’s hand and Rodney’s stomach and thighs. John waited until Rodney started to twitch, mumbling and batting at John’s hands, before letting him go.

“Rodney,” John said tightly, need coiling in gut, lighting up every nerve ending, “I need to - can I please -”

Rodney waved sloppily, his grin goofy. He looked dazed. John’s cock ached at the picture he made, covered in come and absolutely debauched. “Mmkay, whatever.”

It came to John then, exactly how he wanted to come. He swiped at the come on Rodney’s body with one hand and used it to get his cock wet. He grabbed Rodney’s sprawled legs, pushing them up and together. John scooted closer until the front of his thighs were pressed against the back of Rodney’s, his cock dark against Rodney’s pale skin. With a loud, almost pained moan, John slide his cock between Rodney’s thighs.

“Oh,” Rodney blinked, looking surprised. He squeezed his thighs together, giving John something tighter to thrust against. John watched his cock slide between Rodney’s clenched thighs. Steady, quiet sounds were escaping his mouth; John was never this loud in bed, but he couldn’t keep quiet, not at the feel of Rodney’s soft skin and hard muscle holding him tight. He fucked Rodney harder, the urge to come rising, until he was pounding against Rodney, who was bracing himself against the bed, watching with wide eyes, mouth open and panting. John came with a groan, coating Rodney’s thighs with his come, marking him as John’s. His thrusts slowed until it was a slow slide in and out, using Rodney’s thighs to milk that last bit of come out. John pulled his cock out from between Rodney’s thighs and collapsed onto his stomach next to Rodney, face pressed against his upper arm.

“Mmph,” he sighed, body heavy and lethargic. It was the middle of the day, but John could really use a nap. He grumbled when Rodney shifted away, but he was only sliding down until his face was more even with John’s. He was smiling, blue eyes clear. John had never seen him look so happy, so he kissed him, aiming for his lips but landing just to the left. Rodney’s shoulders shook as he laughed at John’s lazy kiss.

“We’re doing this again, right? Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” Rodney poked John’s side. He twitched, rolling so he was on his back.

“Sleeeeep,” he moaned. He was warm and comfortable and didn’t even care that Rodney still had the only pillow.

“I’m trying to have a conversation, asshole,” Rodney said, but there was absolutely no vitriol in his voice. He sounded like he was still smiling. “We’re doing this again, right?”

“Every day,” John mumbled. “Twice on Sundays.”

Rodney’s brow furrowed. “Why only Sundays?”

John sighed and rolled over. He pushed at Rodney’s shoulder until he was lying on his back, then slid until he was lying half on him, throwing an arm over his chest pressing his face against Rodney’s neck.

“It was a joke,” he offered. “We’ll have sex as much as you want for the rest of our lives if you just stop talking and go to sleep.”

Rodney seemed satisfied with this, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of John’s head. John pressed his smile against Rodney’s neck, already riding that hazy edge between asleep and awake. Rodney’s body relaxed into the bed as the silence in the room went on. John stirred only when he felt Rodney shift, pressing his face into John’s hair.

“I love you,” Rodney breathed. It woke John up, brought him back to full awareness. He pressed closer to Rodney and waited. John felt it when Rodney slipped into sleep, his body lax and his breathing turning into snores.

With the room dimly lit and Rodney asleep, John’s face hidden against Rodney’s neck, John mouthed, “I love you too.”

Maybe someday he’d be able to say it when Rodney was conscious and looking at him. He’d work on it - after his nap.

 

.=.=.=.=.

The sunlight was bright and the air crisp as they walked across the deep, purple grass. John absently grabbed Rodney by his shirt collar and hauled him back onto the trail that wound its way through the woods. There was an Ancient outpost tucked into a mountain just a few miles away, and Rodney - who was too busy following the signal to care about where he was walking - kept trying to cut through the woods rather than follow the path. Rodney didn’t even look up from the handheld device he was using.

Ahead of them, Lorne and Cadman lead the way. It’d taken some time for the team to really fall into a groove, for Lorne and Cadman to see past Rodney’s sarcasm. John knew that both Cadman and Lorne were capable of leading their own teams, and would probably soon be offered their own. John and Rodney had something much bigger in the works - it wouldn’t be long before they’d be taken off the offworld rotation and transferred to Antarctica, where there was an outpost in need of Rodney’s genius and John’s magic touch. Daniel was pretty confident he’d find the gate address to Atlantis soon, and Rodney had loudly insisted he be included on any expedition.

John wasn’t about to let Rodney out into the universe without him.

He sighed as Rodney once again veered off the trail, cutting too close to the small, spindly tree; the tips of the branches grasping at his tac vest. Rodney grumbled as he tried to detangle himself, only succeeding in giving himself a small scratch across one cheek. He dropped his tracking device to better fend off the advances of the tree.

“Damn it,” He complained. He pushed a small branch away, only for another to take its place. “What the hell is nature’s problem?”

Rodney had a longstanding hatred of all things outdoors. Complaints of bugs, mud, extreme temperatures, and the long walk were standard now, though as Rodney adjusted to the sudden inclusion of exercise to his weekly schedule, the complaints quieted. Their first mission began with Rodney stepping through the gate, squinting up at the bright sun, and going, “What the hell is that?”

Lorne’s response of, “The sun?” had been quite dry.

“Well, it needs to stop,” Rodney had complained, taking the sunglasses John offered with a tight-lipped smile. He’d only had time for one coffee before they had gone through the gate. Rodney had gone to bed late, the mission scheduled for very early morning, and that combined with the lack of caffeine had made it a difficult mission.

John made sure he went to bed at a reasonable time and was well-caffeinated now.

In the here and now, Rodney was still fighting with the branches of the tree. Lorne and Cadman had stopped to watch, their grins almost fond as Rodney swatted at branches and cursed loudly. Rolling his eyes, John stepped in to yank Rodney back onto the trail. Before Rodney could complain, John snatched the device Rodney had dropped and handed it over. For good measure, he slapped Rodney gently upside the head.

“Stay on the trail and you won’t have to go one on one with a tree branch,” John advised. He ignored Rodney’s _that tree had it in for me_ and pulled Rodney along until they were nearly caught up with Lorne and Cadman, who may have snapped a picture or two. John definitely hadn’t seen the camera used to document alien inscriptions disappear into a pocket.

“This is taking too long,” Rodney complained. “If we just cut through the woods -”

“You can’t even get two feet off the path without running into trouble!” John objected.

“But if we could just -”

“I will find the Sticky Device and use it to keep you with me, on the trail,” John threatened.

Rodney glared mutinously.

“Like a leash,” John continued, warming to the idea. Lorne and Cadman’s pace grew faster, a long-suffering look shared between them that John generously ignored. A breeze ruffled his hair, and a small animal much like a rabbit crossed the path between where they walked and where Lorne and Cadman scouted ahead. They walked through a patch of sunlight shining through a break in the trees, the light warm on John’s skin. Rodney was flushed with exertion.

It was a good day.

“Try it and I’ll fry your laptop,” Rodney threatened, looking smug. John winced. His luck with computers had never been all that great, and somehow he’d already managed to break two. The quartermaster of the base had given John his last one for at least another six months. John wouldn’t say he was intimidated by the man, but he kind of was. The SGC employed scary, scary people.

“A collar then,” John settled on, and his laughter was bright and loud when Rodney pushed him hard, the flush in his cheeks deepening.

Tonight, John was going to graciously make up for teasing Rodney. Tomorrow, John and Rodney would meet their growing circle of friends in a tiny library in a small town for a weekly book club.

Today, a whole new world was under their feet, discovery at their fingertips, and an unshakeable bond between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would be nowhere near as good as it is without the help of [respoftw](http://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw), [wexfogg](http://wexfogg.tumblr.com/), [racheljurassic](http://rachaeljurassic.tumblr.com/), and [akaniffer](http://akaniffer.tumblr.com/). Thanks guys - you're the best!
> 
> All remaining mistakes are my own.


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